A glimpse into the future
by Grummel
Summary: While researching the history of the ring, Gandalf has an encounter of the strange kind and finds more than he was searching for.
1. Encounter

**The idea of this story originates in a review I made to Virtuella's story **_**A Week In The Life Of A Simian Bibliophile**_**. I recommend that you read this first.**

**You might want to skip my comment though, as it would act as a spoiler for this story.**

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Elrond, my dear friend, now that we are alone, let me tell you about a discovery I recently made, a discovery that is so strange that I do not yet know what to make of it. It has a lot to do with books, which seem to have more meaning or power than I had thought. It may be that this is a part of Eru's gift to his younger children.

What do we know about books?

In the undying lands we do not have much use for them. In fact, before the arrival of the firstborn we Ainur did not have any writing at all. Now you elves have invented books and have written your share, but still you prefer the spoken word or song to tell your tales. Why should a young elf read up the stories of old, when there are people around who can give him a first hand account?

Men though are quite fond of books have written many of them. They do have their minstrels and storytellers too, but their short lives mean that those have to pass their stories from generation to generation. Every now and then someone would change a story to make it sound more interesting, heroic or easier to understand and after some hundred years the origin is completely blurred, if nobody writes it down. The accounts I have heard about the Last Alliance and the events that followed Sauron's defeat varied so greatly, that I am very glad of human habit to eternalise their history on paper.

There may have been big libraries in Numenor, but those were forever lost. The biggest library in all Arda today is probably the royal library of Minas Tirith where my tale begins.

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For weeks I had been searching for useful information about the ring. I wasn't even sure whether there would be something to look for, but finally I had found a diary written by Isildur himself. With trembling hands I flew over the pages until I found the point where he described how he first took the ring.

"It was hot when I first took it, hot as a glede, and my hand was scorched, so that I doubt if ever again I shall be free of the pain of it. Yet even as I write it is cooled, and it seemeth to shrink, though it loseth neither..."

Suddenly I became aware that someone was watching me and I turned around sharply.

"I felt your presence. Speak, who are you?" But I what I saw almost made me stop in mid sentence.

Standing there was a creature that looked like a small troll covered in reddish brown fur. I had never seen anything alike. It did not look as ill-natured as a troll, I thought, but I could not know what creatures the enemy may have subdued.

"Ook," was the only reply.

"What is your business in this place?" I wondered whether it was even able to answer. Radagast once told me that the more intelligent animals can speak well, if one knows just how to listen. Well, this one did not look dumb at all, but I do not have Radagast's experience in listening either.

"Ook," it pronounced again and out of a bag it carried handed me a small tan object. I took it and when I shook it gently, it rattled. It seemed like something from Yavanna's Gardens, some kind of nut perhaps, but in these desperate times one cannot be too cautious.

"I do not know what this thing is that you show me. My heart warns me against taking anything out of the hand of such a strange creature. All too easily could a wrong step at this time endanger all hope that is left to free Middle-earth of the shadow."

"Ook?" Although it only repeated the same syllable again, the creature made it sound questioning. I began to think that although it could not really answer me in an intelligible way, it did somehow understand my words.

While I was thinking about a way to communicate with it, the creature looked around as if it were searching for something. Then, all of a sudden, it swung one of his long arms forward, took my hat and tried to fit it on his own, much too big skull.

Now that was too much! Whether it was trying to play a joke on me to distract my attention I do not know, but my anger was aroused.

"Give that to me! Who let you in? How much have you heard? Declare yourself, or you shall feel the wrath of Mithrandir!"

"Oook!" Again the same sound, soothingly lengthened this time, accompanied by a mystical gesture with both its big hairy hands. But now I had had enough of ooks and inexplainable behaviour, so I grabbed my staff and pointed it towards the intruder.

"I am Mithrandir, wielder of the flame of Anor and I command you..."

"Eek!" it shrieked and was on the run.

As big the the library was, there was not much place to hide and it had only one door. I did not expect it to be a long chase, as it was running away from that door. But I should have expected something, since it had entered without rousing all Minas Tirith. After passing two rows of shelves it simply vanished.

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**A/N: **Many thanks to charli800 for patient and thorough beta reading. Remaining mistakes are mine.


	2. The Chase

I see you are quite as shocked as I was. My first thought was that this creature had stolen the ring from Mr. Baggins and in this short and dreadful moment I could not decide which I feared more: that the creature would escape from me or that I would catch it and circumstances would force me to carry that ring myself. But rest assured, to the best of my knowledge the ring is still in Bag End.

While I stared at the location where the creature just had vanished, I began to notice a kind of rift in the air that seemed to be generated by all those books. Despite seemingly being caused by words, it is hard to explain in any language.

When I examined the spot I found that there was somehow, in addition to the usual four directions, a fifth. I may still have missed it, as the rows of shelves looked quite the same, but looking at the very direction I saw the creature again, while it was not to be seen when I was looking along the same aisle from a slightly different point of view.

The creature was strolling leisurely away. Apparently it did not expect me to be able to follow. So I made one step into this special direction.

Just one small step, but somehow it seemed immense at the same time. It brought back memories so old, that I had not thought of them any time since the arrival of the Eldar.

You know that I was not born within Eä, the World that Is, or Arda as is now called. In fact I had my part in creating it with the Song and no matter what happened later on, no other experience was as formidable as entering this world. When I entered, I had taken it for granted, that leaving would not be possible until Eru lets the world come to its end. But that was exactly what I had done.

Now as soon as I stepped through the rift, the creature spotted me, but while I was shaken by the knowledge of having left Arda,the creature was frozen by surprise too. And as soon as we both had recovered, the chase began.

Its legs were obviously not made for running, so keeping up with it was not hard. However this space, whatever it was, grew stranger and more confusing, the further we went. In some places there were not only five, but seven or eight different directions and even up and down were not always what they should have been. Following it was much more a contest of the mind than of the feet.

No elf would have been able to follow, nor do I think a human, though if any of Eru**'**s children will some day be able to walk these strange ways, it will likely be one of the younger children. Their ability to quickly adapt to new situations is admirable.

That I was able to follow had a lot to do with the shock I felt when entering this space. The fact that there are up and down, back and forth, left and right**,** had to be learned when we came to Arda and so I was just in the same situation again: having to learn the rules by observation. And here I had a teacher, however unwilling it was.

When I thought I would catch up with it any moment, the creature showed me what its body really was good for. We were in a big hall and in the centre there was a spiral staircase leading to some upper floor. This stairs wound around a pillar with nothing to support them on the outside. Although they missed the elegance of an elfish design, they looked frail, but proved to be quite robust.

Instead of walking up the winding stairs the creature just climbed the outside, going from one handrail to the next with an incredible speed. While I went up the stairs in a desperate hurry, in the back of my mind I noticed that the creature must be a tree living animal. Upon reaching the top I barely saw the creature turn a corner, but it was enough to follow.

Again I drew nearer and nearer until I suddenly noticed one book.

During the pursuit I had already passed more books then I had seen in my whole live before, but so far I had not paid attention to any specific one. Whether it was a kind of magic or fate, I did notice this one and when I managed to release my eyes again, the creature was gone.

The title of the book was _The Silmarillion_.


	3. Who wrote this book?

I quickly looked around a few corners in the hope of picking up the trail again, but soon resigned myself to failure. It could have taken too many different paths.

Curiosity brought me back to this one book. Did it really tell the story of Feanor's magnificent and yet so doomed jewels? I felt compelled to find out, so I took it from the shelf.

It was rather small, compared to the tomes usually found in Minas Tirith, but when I opened it, I found the its pages were delicately thin and in fact it contained more pages then most of those tomes. The letters were even more surprising, as they were written with a stunning precision, each line being perfectly aligned and all letters of one kind looking exactly alike. I wondered whether it could truly be the work of a master calligrapher; it looked to me more like the work of some machinery.

"There was Eru, the One, who in Arda is called Ilúvatar; and he first made the Ainur, the Holy Ones, that were the offspring of his thought, and they were with him before aught else was made. And he spoke to them, propounding to them themes of music..."

The book did indeed tell the history of our world from the very beginning and it did so very well. The author was given as J.R.R. Tolkien. I supposed by then that he must have been a Numenorean, since I doubt that any contemporary historian could write such an accurate record of the former ages. Did they have machines to make books in Numenor, I wondered? Once again I mourned all the wonderful things that Ar-Pharazôn's(1) folly had lost.

When it came to the time after the flight of the Noldor, parts of what I read were new even to me. Of course, during that time little information about the tidings in Middle Earth came to Valinor, but after the war of wrath many stories were told and so the general picture was known to me already. This Tolkien**,** however**,** had researched the time very thoroughly.

When I finished reading about the war of wrath and the book was not yet at its end, I expected it to continue with the story of Numenor up to the time of the author. When I turn the page however I was surprised once more, as the next chapter was named "Alkallabêth". The word did not have any meaning of historical importance before the fall of Numenor, so the book could not have been written there. I read on, eager to find more details of Middle Earth's History, but now also intrigued to find out when the book will end.

I found that it also contained a brief, but precise account of the Last Alliance and still it went on. When I came across the death of Eärendur(2), I stopped reading. Who could this Tolkien be, I asked myself, that I have never heard about him nor seen any books like this before?

As I looked up from the book, I saw that the shelf contained more books from the same author. So I picked one of them, hoping that it might give me more clues on who this Tolkien was. The title of the book was _The Fellowship of the Ring_, which gave me an eerie feeling, but I began to read nevertheless.

"When Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he would shortly be celebrating his eleventy-first birthday with a party of special magnificence..."

Just half a sentence, but I was stunned. The mere fact that Tolkien mentioned Mr. Baggins was surprising enough, but what really baffled me was the fact that Bilbo had not and has not yet lived for a hundred years. For a moment I had to lean on my staff, feeling completely dizzy.

When my head stopped spinning I remembered that I was no longer sitting in Minas Tirith and concluded that this riddle could not be solved without taking into account how I had come to this place. So I thought about those junctions, examined a few in my vicinity and finally chose one that I passed several times. Suddenly I had an idea.

To confirm it, I made an experiment: I took a book, stood it upright in the middle of an aisle and knocked it to make it topple over. Then I stepped through one of these rifts. Looking back I saw the book topple once more. Two more steps in that direction and the book was back in the shelf. Walking back I glimpsed a lightning fast moving image of myself. When I stepped back through the rift, the book was lying on the floor again. These ways did not only twist directions, they altered the flow of time as well.

Now things began to make sense: I have never heard about him, because he has not yet written its books, most likely he is not even yet born. He is, or better, will be, a future historian.

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(_1) The last king of Numenor, who was seduced by Sauron to break the ban and sail west to conquer Valinor, thus triggering the destruction of Numenor._

_(2) The last king of the northern kingdom of Arnor, who died less then two centuries before Gandalf came to Middle Earth._


	4. To read or not to read?

First I was excited. I marvelled that this book might tell me facts about the future, facts that even Mandos could not see. Reading it would allow me to foresee the very moves of the enemy.

But then doubt began to creep into my joy. The book could tell me about mistakes and dire consequences, but would knowing them mean that I could change the course of action? And if I could, would the book become obsolete? It occurred to me that sometimes mistakes turn out to be sacrifices that lead to greater good. What would I do, I pondered, if I knew that some plan would be fatal to a good friend, while changing the plan would mean to stray from the known path to ultimate success?

Oh, I wished you might have been there. You or anybody to discuss the matter with. My wish directed my thoughts to back to the curious creature. Where did it come from, I asked myself? Was it a creature of the future itself? It seemed to be familiar with these time twisting passages, probably it could have counselled me whether to read the book or not. Of course, even if I could trust it and it could indeed counsel me, most likely it would not, after all that had happened.

My thoughts went back to the question I had to answer: Should I read Tolkien's books? Since there was nobody to counsel with, I played with the idea of taking the book with me and deciding whether or not read it back in Middle-earth. But even that might not be a safe thing to do: I felt that carrying this book could be almost as dangerous as carrying the Ring.

Thoughts about returning called my attention to a completely different, but even more important problem: I had to find a way back! If I got lost in this maze, I imagined, I might well read the book only to learn that Gandalf the Grey plays no role in it.

I tried to remember the way I had taken, but soon gave up. I was fairly certain that I could find back to the spiral stairway, but after that my memory quickly failed. At the beginning of the chase too much of my mental prowess had been required to merely follow the creature; there had not been enough left to memorise the route.

Since I could not remember the way I had taken, I had to find one, so much was obvious. Taking into account the highly knotted structure of those corridors, I concluded that most likely there were many correct ways, but even more wrong ones. So I had to find a way to get my bearings.

For a while I tried to look at the books in the shelves around the rifts for clues, but this was pointless. Most of the titles did not sound familiar in any way and reading more than just the titles would cost me days for each rift.

I leaned on my staff and pondered: Men often asked me things like "Couldn't you just command it happen?" or "Couldn't you conjure up something?" But you cannot command books nor summon knowledge.

Then I began to think. What could be the essence of this world? Books? Words? Stories? Ideas? I saw only one way to learn that: by trying. First I tried books. I concentrated all my thoughts on Isildur's diary, as I was reading it ere this creature distracted me, but this did not help in any way.

So I tested words. I started with a big one: "Arda", then tried a more specific place "Minas Tirith". Both words triggered a vivid collection of impressions and pictures in my mind, but neither induced any sense of direction.

Next I attempted to concentrate on a story: here I chose the epic battles of old fought against the one who is now only known as Morgoth. First I felt nothing, but then slowly I recognised a confusing sensation. It did seem to point somewhere, but I could not follow it. After a while however I felt it more clearly and then I realised that it actually pointed two ways at once.

Walking around a bit, I detected that one direction was constant, while the other one changed as I moved. It seemed to point to something near at hand. Then the scales fell from my eyes: of course it pointed to the _Silmarillion_ in the shelf, wherein that story is written down. So the other direction must be the one I needed, but I also made a mental note that books can be located here with the same technique. This discovery actually eased another decision I had to make: since I had found a way locate the books again, I left them where they were.

So I began to walk in the direction that would hopefully lead me back. For a while it pointed me exactly the way I remembered passing before, but then I had to leave the known path. This did not trouble me too much, since someone trying to get rid of a pursuer does usually not run straight. By and by the direction became clearer as the influence of the books got weaker and I got more familiar with this kind of navigation. But then it suddenly failed.

Well, "fail" is not quite the right word. It did point to a wall. First I assumed there had to be a hidden door, but after a thorough examination I was absolutely sure that a solid wall was indeed all there was. For a moment I considered breaking through by force. But you know me, I will always try to find something better before resorting to violence.

Reflecting on everything I had learnt, I recognised I had been quite naive. Since I could travel time as well as space, thinking only of old stories would lead me to a younger Arda. Or would they? Thus far I had always equated going back to Arda with going back to the royal library. But in these old times the library did not exist. Nor did anything one could even remotely call a library. This, I supposed, was exactly why I was standing in front of a wall: there had been no entrance to our world back then.

Following my conclusion I now thought about stories specifically associated with Minas Tirith and as close to the present day as possible. The latest gossip proved to be too weak, but when I recollected the history of the stewards, I got a direction I could follow again.

Now I was quite convinced I had the right anchor and I thought my way back would be smooth and uneventful. All of a sudden however, another book caught my attention. It was named _The Murders in the__ Rue Morgue_(1) by Edgar Allan Poe.

I wanted to get home, so I hesitated to read another book. This one however was much smaller and the first book I had noticed had been extraordinarily interesting. After short consideration I took the book and began to read.

"The mental features discoursed of as the analytical, are, in themselves, but little susceptible of analysis..." The book had been made in a way similar to the Tolkien ones. Most likely it was a future book as well. At least that would explain why many of its terms were unknown to me.

It started with a treatise on what it means to analyse. When I began to apply the idea to my own analysis of the book space in order to make sense out of it, the topic changed completely. Now the text was telling the tale of a brilliant person using his mental abilities to solve a mysterious murder. What he finds is that an animal, whose description fitted well to the creature I had chased, had acted most violently, when it had been cornered by a pursuer.

This gave me a lot to think about. Was it a warning, I wondered? And if so, who or what had sent it? Before long however,I decided that this riddle could be solved another day. I focused on the stewards once more and finally entered the royal library, where, to my relief, I found the diary still lying where I had left it.

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_And that is the end of this tale. My thoughts have since returned to the creature several times. The more I am thinking about it, the less I can imagine it to be a servant of the Enemy. It seemed to walk this weird maze with ease and confidence, but if Sauron has subdued this creature, I doubt that the whole place would still be so empty and quiet. The place felt almost, as if it was alive, but not in an evil way. To be on the safe side I have blocked the entrance in the royal library though.

I now regret my harsh reaction. Why did it have to appear while I was reading Isildur's diary and was as tense as I could be? Though it does not seem to speak any known language, I am sure I would have found a way to communicate with a creature so obviously intelligent. What a resourceful friend it could be.

There is no use crying over spilt milk, as men say. Today I think that it was more than just bad luck that it appeared at that very moment, yet I have not found a reasonable explanation so far.

Even without having read the other books, the incident however has raised my hopes. One thing I have learnt about history books is that they usually reflect the victor's view and Sauron would not approve of the _Silmarillion._

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(1) I doubt this short story was ever published as a book, but it could be some day, so it can be found in L-Space.


	5. Epilogue

The Librarian entered the familiar rooms of his own library in Unseen University. He quickly chased off a solitary student. Still distressed, he did not want anybody around. Hastily he gulped down a banana to relax his nerves, then sat down and reflected.

Being chased by a wizard was not something to which he was used. It was also pretty low on the list of things he ever wanted to get used to. In his world,wizards only moved fast when approaching a buffet. Except Rincewind, who could run away quite quickly. But being chased by Rincewind was like... Though he really tried, he could not come up with a good analogy: it was simply unimaginable.

Being chased by a wizard through L-Space was worse. In the future he would be even more careful than before. For the first time in many years he regretted having lost his human voice. The university wizards usually understood the few things he had to say; some well accentuated ooks and a bit of finger pointing were sufficient. (1) Of course they knew him well and the other wizard did not. Nor did the wizard take much time trying to get acquainted.

Well, to be fair, he seemed to have lost his courtesy as well. The body of an ape was a good excuse for being rude and in his opinion the wizards here did not deserve much courtesy. Most of them treated the library as a kind of adornment, something that existed only because a university was supposed to have one. He knew nothing about the other wizard, but he had found him in a library after all. Playing with his hat had not been the best idea.

Possibly nothing would have worked anyway. Although he did not understand what the wizard was talking about, it seemed like he had interrupted him at something very important. He remembered words like "last hope". Bad luck? Certainly not. Narrativium is strong within L-Space. Probably nothing he could have done would have changed much: finding a new friend was not in the script.

In the end narrativium had saved him too. His instinct had told him that the story of this wizard was in a book not too far ahead and as he had expected, passing this book had distracted the wizard for long enough. (3)

The Librarian looked at the small booklet he had taken with him on the way home. When narrativium showed you a book, you read it, unless you liked to miss a good story. He did not want to miss a good story and at the moment he really appreciated something to lighten up his mood.

After a weird introduction about mental faculties the story turned out to be a classic roundworld detective tale: Some highly intelligent person solved the mystery behind a murder the police could not sort out. He was almost through and wondering why he noticed this particular book, when he read the word "Ourang-Outang". It turned out that a sailor with a whip had chased an orang-utan, which he apparently owned, through the streets. The poor ape had escaped into a house, where he had killed two innocent women.

Owning an orang-utan? That was outrageous! He would have strangled the sailor with his own whip, yes, that is what he would have done. He also felt an urge to strangle this Poe for depicting an orang-utan in such an unfavourable way.

Now his mood was even worse. And he still had not found what he was searching for.

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(1) Parents know well how much toddlers can express in a similar way. (2)

(2) The Librarian would strongly disapprove of the comparison.

(3) A casual reader may have realised that Gandalf did not notice the LotR, but the Silmarillion, in which he is hardly mentioned. Narrativium however is the author's best friend: When you have a good story, it works the way you want it to.

A/N: The wizards claim that there is no narrativium in our world. The fact that I read _The murders in Rue Morgue_ while I was working on _A glimpse into the future_ almost felt like narrativium at work though. Many thanks to charli800 and Virtuella for betareading!


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